Whenever I smell a balsam fir, I am transported back to my childhood. When we put the Christmas decorations away in the attic each year, some needles would find their way into the boxes. Come the next Christmas, Dad would boost me up to the attic panel in the hallway ceiling, I would set it aside in the attic, and he would boost me the rest of the way into the attic. I would then hand down the boxes to him. Somehow, sitting in the attic over the course of the year, those needles would infuse the air up there with their scent. (Taking down and putting away the decorations were the only times that the attic was entered during the year.) When I had handed down all of the boxes, Dad would act like he was going to leave me up there, eventually catching my legs as I lowered myself through the opening and holding me there while I replaced the panel.
Not a real member - just an ordinary guy who appreciates being able to hang around and say something once in awhile.
Happily Trapped In the Past (Thanks, Joe)
Not only a less than minimally educated person, but stupid and out of touch as well.
Fresh coffee being brewed. Reminds me of my maternal grandfather's old metal coffee percolator with the glass thing in the lid. Used it at his summer place on a bay on the south side of Lake Ontario on the brick outdoor fireplace to make morning coffee in the 50's & 60's. Fresh coffee aroma still brings me back to there.
I'll never forget the smell of my grandad's John Deere dealership. It wasn't a pleasant smell, just very distinctive and I suppose it may have been because of all the belts. hoses, tires, and cotton picker doffers stashed in the parts department. That old building has been torn down for many years, but the foundation is intact and the floors in the place were painted and bare concrete which is still visible. When I pass through Fabens I often stop there and I can find the spot where his office once was. I stand there and close my eyes and imagine the familiar smell...and I can almost hear his voice.
Don't be the darkness.
America will perish while those who should be standing guard are satisfying their lusts.
Grandma’s farmhouse. Mix of clean far north air, pines, woodstove, home cooking, mothballs, and whatever she cleaned wood floors with (little german lady, you know it was cleaned daily). Gosh I miss her.
Forest floor covered in inches of down hardwood leaves swirling around one’s feet.
Interiors of older trucks, mix of vinyl, dirty fabric and floors, gas fumes and tobacco smoke.
Golldammed motion detector lights. A guy can’t even piss off his porch in peace any more.
"Look, I want to help the helpless. It's the clueless I don't give a [bleep] about." - Dennis Miller on obamacare.
Doug fir just peeled, heading down the conveyors toward the clipper! Filled the whole green end with a fresh wood smell. And Lina, after a good screwing!
The desert here in EP stinks on ice after a rain. It's disgusting.
Lots of other disgusting odors in this town as well.
Last edited by High_Noon; 11/25/20.
l told my pap and mam I was going to be a mountain man; acted like they was gut-shot. Make your life go here. Here's where the peoples is. Mother Gue, I says, the Rocky Mountains is the marrow of the world, and by God, I was right. - Del Gue
Yup, Patchouli oil. I went to college in the mid 70s and was into hippie chicks. I'll add smoked ribs to your list. Oh, and the smell of a sea breeze coming in over a field of mature barley when we were on Black Isle in Scotland.
The north woods on a damp fall morning, just cold enough to crinkle a nose hair or two. Frying bacon and perking coffee over a wood fire. Those are the good ones. Diesel exhaust and moon dust making giant crusty snots, standing next to a too long since emptied portajohn, two week since real shower body funk, and rotten feet. Those are the not so good ones.
Oh, and in case no ones mentioned it, freshly fired paper shotgun hulls......
Corn silage when I forked it down out of the silo!
I had completely forgotten about that. Climbing up in the silo at Lloyd's (the guy I worked for) mother's place in the winter. Using a pick to break silage loose, then sending it down, climbing down and spreading it out onto the bunk, getting jostled by bovine heads while I was doing it, and once getting a (thank goodness blunt) end of a horn in the back of my thigh from a head tossed in ecstasy.
Not a real member - just an ordinary guy who appreciates being able to hang around and say something once in awhile.
Happily Trapped In the Past (Thanks, Joe)
Not only a less than minimally educated person, but stupid and out of touch as well.
Coal smoke, everybody heated their house with coal, and the steam engines parked in the rail yard down the street still ran on it. Some years back I was up on Mt Washington NH when their cog railway locomotive was still coal-burning.
The smell of smoke, soot and grease instantly took me back.
"...if the gentlemen of Virginia shall send us a dozen of their sons, we would take great care in their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them." Canasatego 1744
